


Alright

by monaboyd_archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Angst., First Time, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-03
Updated: 2005-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-11 13:38:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4437566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monaboyd_archivist/pseuds/monaboyd_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Billy ponders the future, and what he really wants after Rings ends.  Written very late for blondiusmaximus' 2005 holiday request.  1500 words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alright

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the Monaboyd.net Archive, which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years . To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile.

He knows the minute Dom walks out of the pub. He’s not looking toward the door, toward his departing mate, but he feels it along the back of his neck, awareness sliding coolly down his spine to settle in his gut, hard and cold and empty.

The aching muscles in his face relax suddenly, the too-bright smile falling away, the false cheer going out of him like air from a deflating balloon. He rubs the back of his neck with one hand, and gently disentangles himself from his tipsy, suddenly over-friendly makeup girl Julie with the other, settling her on a barstool near Viggo, who gives him a knowing glance.

Viggo knows, of course. Without needing to be told, he saw it written in Billy’s eyes long ago. Maybe even before Billy knew. Viggo’s smile always seems vaguely knowing, his manner just slightly omniscient. Billy thinks sometimes that Viggo’s eyes conceal the story of the universe, and the secrets of the stars, with the way he smiles every so often.

Of course, being Viggo, he’s probably forgotten them.

Julie grabs for his hand again, insistent on getting his attention, but Viggo manages to distract her with a smile, and a handful of photographs that he seems to have pulled out of thin air. Billy shoots him a grateful look, and makes his escape.

He has enough to worry about tonight, but then, he realises, he can’t really blame Julie. It’s a last-chance sort of night, after all. The end of a year, and the beginning of a new one. The end of a 15-month journey spent forging bonds deeper than he could ever have imagined…the beginning of life without his mates in his back pocket, in his business, at his side. And really, he knows what he means by that.

Life without Dom. There’s a strange tightness in his chest when he admits that that’s what makes him saddest.

No more late nights drinking and early mornings holding each other up in Feet. No more waking to find Dom rummaging through his cupboards in search of crisps or biscuits or, on one memorable occasion, a lizard his mate had adopted and lost track of. Billy smiles at the memory, but the smile fades with the clenching of his throat and the surprising sting behind his eyes.

No more drifting off to sleep with Dom huddled next to him in bed, curled up around him for warmth when the heater won’t kick in, and they’re too drunk or tired to go anywhere else. No more surfing together, sharing the freedom and exhilaration of the waves with the only person who truly understands what they mean to him.

No more laughing together at something no one else would catch or understand. No more perfect setups and deadpans, one-liners and trade-offs, pranks and jokes and secret smiles that are perfectly excusable in the moment. No more comfortable, casual touches, no more friendly hugs or pecks on the cheek just because they’re there.

He shifts uncomfortably as he finally admits to himself that he doesn’t quite feel right without Dom pressed tight to his side, an arm wound around him, and that monkey grin so close that he can feel Dom’s warm breath on his cheek and neck, as they look outward together, staring at the ocean, or sitting in a pub with their friends, or even just watching crap late night telly after a long day. Together. Billy swallows hard at the sad, haunting, overwhelming sense that _everything’s not alright_ , will never be alright, that something will always be missing when Dom’s not there.

No more shine in Dom’s eyes when Billy makes him laugh. No more husky commiserations down phone lines, and whispered _I miss you_ s, because it’s perfectly acceptable for Pippin to long for the company of his Merry when they’ve been separated so long. No more just knowing Dom’s _there_ when Billy just wants to give in, pack up and move to Guatemala to raise goats, and bugger this acting business, anyway, as his mate would say. A smile touches his face briefly, then slips away. No more knowing there’s someone so close, someone who knows Billy better than he knows himself, someone who won’t leave.

Because he will. They will. All of them. Starting tomorrow, or maybe the day after, Billy’s not sure, they’ll leave one by one, getting on planes to different corners of the world. And they’ll all meet again, but it’ll never be quite the same, will it? You really can’t go home again, and Billy knows that in their hearts, this place and this makeshift family and this moment is home. And now they’re leaving it.

Leaving each other. And once again that brings him back to Dom.

He’s been fighting this all night, not wanting to lose himself in these thoughts when they should be celebrating the wrap, the New Year, new beginnings, and so on and so forth. He’s seen it in Dom’s face, though, noticed his quietness in the car, knew his own thoughts were mirrored, perfectly as always, in his best mate.

What he doesn’t know is why Dom’s been so distant, drawn away from him so quickly here at the party, why he doesn’t meet Billy’s eyes, or stand annexed to Billy’s side, a casual arm slung over his shoulders as usual. He’s ashamed to almost be a little glad of it, on some level, because he knows the only thing more difficult than his own sadness would be seeing Dom’s.

At the same time, there’s a grasping, gaping fear that the time’s slipping away from them, that they should be holding as tight to this moment as they can, together, because they’ll never have it again. And that thought makes him feel so very sad and empty that he just wants to curl up in a corner and cry.

The sound of a quiet, ragged breath interrupts his thoughts, and he realises that he’s wandered outside, some internal beacon leading him where he most wants – _needs_ – to be. He turns the corner, already knowing what he’ll see, but not prepared for it, even so.

Dom’s huddled against the back wall of the pub, curled in on himself. His shoulders rise evenly with his breath, but his eyes are red-rimmed steel, and there are tear tracks down his face, and Billy’s heart plummets and his chest tightens, and he’s suddenly, intensely desperate to make the pain he sees there disappear. As their eyes meet, something fleeting that Billy recognises on some deeper level flashes between them. _Last chance._

“Dom?” His own voice sounds scratchy, rusty, like something that hasn’t been used in too long. He clears his throat, finding a lump there.

Dom unfolds in a single fluid motion, drawing him in close and wrapping around him, protective, comforting. Billy’s shocked to realise that he’s the one who’s crying.

“Shh, Billy, shhh,” Dom murmurs, strokes his shoulders, his back. “It’s alright, it’s going to be alright.”

Billy draws in a breath to tell him that it’s _not_ alright, and finds himself breathing in Dom’s cologne and a little hint of musk, the smell of his shampoo and a trace of the wine he was drinking earlier. And maybe he’s had more wine than he should himself, because he’s a little dizzy suddenly, clinging to Dom’s arms as if he’s afraid he’ll fall if he lets go. And he really should let go, he thinks, before Dom notices the way Billy’s treacherous body has responded to his scent, his nearness, which was meant to be soothing, but as always brings Billy just a little more awareness than he’s really comfortable with. But before he can stop himself, he leans in just a little, breathing in Dom’s scent and his embrace, his body pressed close to Billy, his arms surrounding him, his face, so silly and crooked and imperfect and beloved and close…

And just like that, he lets go – not of Dom, but of his fear. Because it’s time to move on, true, but not in the way that he thought. It’s time for him to release all his worries and insecurities and denial and excuses, time to accept and hold tight to the important things in life, especially the one he’s clinging to for dear life at this very moment. Yes, there’s a risk, but it’s a risk worth taking, he realises. And the time has come to take it.

It’s so easy then to slide his hand up Dom’s bicep and over his shoulder, to curl his fingers into the soft, short hair at Dom’s nape and tug his mate’s face down into that kiss that his body has yearned for even longer than his heart has, and now his mind knows, admits, acknowledges, just as the gasp, and the heat and pressure and tenderness and need of the mouth moving against his tell him that on this last-chance sort of night, it really will be alright after all.


End file.
